


Ron/Draco drabbles and ficlets

by Lokifan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Christmas, Dom Ron Weasley, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Spanking, Sub Draco Malfoy, Weasley Jumpers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-07
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 20:29:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 48
Words: 12,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14552913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokifan/pseuds/Lokifan
Summary: This is all my Ron/Draco shorts. It's also mostly from 8+ years ago, but I'm a completist.I basically started with the smutty stuff, with fluff to follow.





	1. On The Pull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco’s receding hairline is not getting in the way of his sex life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the "hair" prompt at rondracodrabble.

Draco’s slow, sucking kisses – his lips parted just enough for Ron to feel the heat of his mouth – always made Ron shiver. Those same kisses on the head of his cock left him mindwiped and moaning.

Draco parted his lips and slid smoothly down. Ron’s hips bucked and he grabbed for Draco’s soft hair – the little tease was _not_ allowed to pull back now – 

Draco spluttered, then let his teeth graze Ron’s cock. It was a warning, and Ron wasn’t as stupid as all that. He let go of Draco’s hair, and his boyfriend sat back with an acid glare.

~*~

“I’ve told you not to pull my hair, Weasley!”

“You used to like it.” Ron tried, and failed, not to hitch his hips towards Draco’s lips. His cock was slick and aching from Draco’s mouth, and Draco was still kneeling between his legs giving him that angry look, and he _knew_ what that did to him – 

“So what? You’re making me lose my hair! You’re always pulling it when I go down on you, or when you want to feel all butch – not to speak of your stealing my comb, which can’t be good for it – ”

“For goodness’ sake – ”

~*~

Ron caught sight of Draco’s still-straining erection, and lost his patience.

Draco was still ranting, his white-blond hair falling over his pink, screwed-up face. Ron slid his hand into Draco’s hair. 

“Stop it! You’re such an oaf. We can’t all be naturally possessed of a full head of flaming hair –”

Ron slid his hand back, and fisted it at the nape of Draco’s neck, twisting his hair in his grip. Draco’s head was forced back, even as he tensed his neck to scowl at Ron. “Would you – ”

“Shush,” Ron said, putting a finger to Draco’s wet, open lips.

~*~

Ron’s voice was hoarse with need. “You’re going to stop telling me how it’s my fault that you’re balding.” Draco’s face lit with outrage, but Ron put his hand over his mouth. The sight of his big, square hand over Draco’s pointy face was fantastic. “You can tell me off later. You got me hard, you little prick-tease – ” He used the hand at Draco’s neck to haul him forward until his wide grey eyes were inches from Ron’s swollen cock – “so you’re going to suck me off. And I’ll pull your hair if necessary to make you do it.”

~*~

Draco’s face went slack as his pupils swallowed up his eyes. Ron felt a swelling of lust and triumph at the evidence of how he could affect his ever-so-composed boyfriend. Draco lowered his eyes and his head, and swallowed Ron’s cock once again.

Uh, it was amazing. Ron rocked his hips steadily, sawing his cock over Draco’s plush lips, forcing himself further in. Draco’s tongue worked its magic. He was sucking harder now, his mouth working around Ron’s shaft.

“Come on, stroke yourself,” Ron got out in a pained growl. 

Draco shuddered helplessly and dropped his hand between his legs.

~*~

Draco was rough with himself; his strained, flushed face broadcast his need. He sucked Ron ever harder as he stroked himself – so desperate. Like he needed the weight of a cock in his mouth; like the rising sound of Ron’s groans was his only route to orgasm.

Ron’s hands were both in his hair now: he couldn’t resist using that beautiful soft hair, the mark of his august family, as reins to fuck his mouth. The sounds he was making were guttural, uncontrolled. Draco moaned around his cock.

Ron pulled back as he came: he wanted Draco to taste it.

~*~

He was still shuddering with aftershocks as he reached down, planted two hands in Draco’s armpits and hauled him up into his lap. Draco spluttered, half-protesting in his confusion.

Ron shushed him, wrapping his left arm around him just above his arse to keep him upright. The other hand went to Draco’s swollen cock.

Draco’s swollen mouth dropped open with a hiss at Ron’s experienced touch. “Oh – ”

Ron smiled. _No more protests now_.

Draco wrapped his arms round Ron’s shoulders and straddled him, rocking his hips into Ron’s grip. Ron stared up into his face, unable to look away.

~*~

Draco’s face was blotchy, his mouth reddened and half-wrecked with Ron’s mistreatment, his eyes screwed up as he panted under Ron’s hand. Ron kept stripping his cock, efficiently making Draco fall apart.

Draco groaned, the sound loud and disjointed as if he were in pain. Ron leant forward and closed his mouth round one hard nipple, and Draco was done for. His body jerked as he shuddered with orgasm, and Ron held him up, stroking him through. He kept on for a moment too long, smiling at Draco’s hiss from the touch on his oversensitive cock, before letting him go.

~*~

Draco squirmed nearer, and they stayed there, overheated bodies pressed heavily together. Their chests moved still closer as they panted.

Eventually they made their way up the bed to lie together. Ron stroked Draco’s hair, and a frown appeared above Draco’s closed eyes. Ron kissed his sweaty forehead.

“It won’t make you lose your hair,” Ron said. “Besides, I don’t mind if you do. As long as you have enough for me to pull it… and if one day you do go bald, there’s always pulling you around by your cock.”

“How sweet.” Oddly, Draco sounded like he meant it.


	2. Checkmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes!” Ron yelled, turning to high-five his friends. “The Hogwarts chess champion is still undefeated!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for kuri-taichou, for the "defeated" prompt at rondracodrabble.

“Yes!” Ron yelled, turning to high-five his friends. “The Hogwarts chess champion is still undefeated!”

Draco growled, slumping in his chair.

That evening, they met in the Room of Requirement. Ron circled Draco closely, trailing a possessive hand over Draco’s waist, arse... smiling as he shivered. Draco scowled and snarled, even as Ron made him strip and he stood blushing under Ron’s appraising eyes. Even when Ron fucked him, so Ron did it harder.

Ron stared at Draco’s exhilarated face, the way his pink mouth slackened with bliss when Ron twisted a nipple, and wondered if Draco had lost deliberately.


	3. My Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annoyed because he was embarrassed, Draco snapped back. “You’re hardly vanilla yourself, Weasley!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for morettaallstar, with the prompt "Ron/Draco with toppy Ron - kink".

Ron stared at him, and Draco blushed. “Seriously?”

Annoyed because he was embarrassed, Draco snapped back. “You’re hardly vanilla yourself, Weasley! It’s my turn to choose something kinky for us to do.”

“I know. I just don’t want to get it wrong.”

Draco softened at this, and he touched Ron’s broad chest. He could smell Ron’s cologne: he always wore too much. “You won’t. I trust you.”

Ron paused, looking down. Draco was about to ask if he was all right, when his head snapped up, blue eyes blazing. “All right, boy. On your knees.”

Draco melted to the floor.


	4. Lost Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Draco was always so composed, but Ron forced moaning responses from him now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for sexyscholar, who gave me the prompt "Ron/Draco - rimming".

Draco’s breath hitched and stuttered as Ron’s mouth followed the lines of his body. He pressed a kiss to Draco’s tailbone, before settling firmly between Draco’s thighs. Draco’s panting, irregular breaths were sexy, but even better was his gasp as Ron parted his cheeks.

Draco tensed as Ron’s tongue moved teasingly over his furled flesh; then Ron plunged his tongue inside and Draco _yowled._

Ron licked and sucked and slurped, and Draco replied with a vulgar push back against his tongue. Draco was always so composed, but Ron forced moaning responses from him now.

Draco cried out, and lost control.


	5. Pierced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ron got the nipple piercing for two reasons: bitter made a lightweight of him, and Charlie and George were bastards who took advantage of their brother’s impaired state.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for elainemalfoy, who requested "Ron/Draco - piercings".

Ron got the nipple piercings for two reasons: bitter made a lightweight of him, and Charlie and George were bastards who took advantage of their brother’s impaired state.

He woke up the morning after with sore nipples and a pounding head, and wearing stupid gold things that made him look like a harem boy.

He kept wearing them, though; Ron was aware he wasn’t the hippest bloke ever (he used the word ‘hip’, for Merlin’s sake) and he was often attracted to fey-looking blonds in peculiar outfits. They were the sort who didn’t want dependable redheads. They wanted nipple piercings.

~*~

As was proven when he met Draco Malfoy in the smoky back of a club. He was fuzzy with drink, and Malfoy was pissed: he tripped and stumbled against Ron, hands on his chest.

They stared at each other, faces close in the shifting gloom. Malfoy blinked in bemusement. Ron followed the movement of his eyelashes.

“Weasley?”

“Yeah.”

Malfoy’s hands clenched in Ron’s shirt. His face changed shape in sudden confusion. “Are you... are your nipples pierced?”

Which was how Ron ended up getting fucked in the men’s while Malfoy tugged his nipples raw and left scratches _everywhere._

Lightweight indeed.


	6. Totally Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron ties Draco down and rides him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for seraphimerising, who requested "Ron/Draco, restraints, topping from the bottom."

Draco squirmed anxiously in the restraints. The wide, soft leather cuffs rubbed against his wrists, and his crotch rubbed against Ron’s. Ron grinned down smugly from atop him, his arms crossed over his muscled chest.

“What are you going to – ”

“Nothing bad,” Ron responded, flashing a smile which was the opposite of reassuring.

He slid off Draco and reached for the lube. Draco moaned as a large, slick hand wrapped itself round his cock, pumping him steadily and covering him with the stuff. His hips followed Ron’s rhythm, thrusting upwards in helpless chasing of Ron’s touch.

Then it went away. Ron pulled off and backed away, leaving Draco’s slick, drooling cock untouched. “Ron!” Draco whined.

“Ssh, Malfoy. You’re in for a nice show.” Ron leant against the footboard, spread his legs, and oh... he was preparing himself, sliding two of those long fingers inside his hole. Draco whined breathlessly at the sight, Ron’s wrinkled little hole stretching around his fingers, Ron’s big hand pumping between his thighs. He couldn’t see everything, but that only increased his desperation. The slick sounds of Ron fingering himself, his panting as he did it, the rosy flush sliding down his chest... Draco realised he was tugging unconsciously at the cuffs.

He stopped abruptly, and Ron grinned teasingly despite his flush. “D’you want to touch me, Draco?”

“Yes, damn you, of course I do!” Draco snarled. His voice was breathy. Then Ron sunk three fingers all the way in, his eyes shutting. He moaned, and the sound was so hot Draco’s back arched of its own accord.

Ron opened his eyes in time to catch the movement. “Nice.” And fucking _finally_ he was crawling across the bed to kneel over Draco’s cock. Draco moaned in relief as Ron took hold of him, and slid down.

Such heat and pressure as Ron’s tight arse squeezed itself around him. Ron’s head was thrown back, his mouth pursed as he lowered himself, taking Draco all the way in. His chest and thigh muscles worked as he rose again, cruelly taking that warmth with him. Draco moaned: beyond words, but unmistakably begging.

And then Ron was riding him in earnest, hips and thighs and chest working in concert. Ron’s eyes were screwed shut as he chased his own pleasure, and Draco had never felt so pleasurably used. He was shaking with lust. He felt brainless, overwhelmed by the sight of it: his tall, muscular Ron perched atop him and riding him to oblivion.

Then Ron fell forward, his hands wrapping round Draco’s forearms just under the restraints. His reddened face was suddenly so close Draco could smell his sweat, his blue eyes intent on Draco’s face. Ron tightened his hands on Draco’s arms and his arse round Draco’s cock together, growled out, “come,” and Draco was groaning, crying out, his body arching uncontrollably as he came in one long stream.

He blinked his eyes open to find Ron’s face mere inches away, watching him with blue eyes turned black with lust.

Draco’s stomach squirmed pleasurably as he tensed. “You’re not going to let me go now, are you?”

“Of course not,” Ron said cheerfully. “ _Accio ballgag!_ ”


	7. Punished and Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spanking porn: Draco’s been very rude to Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the Ron Big Bang had an art drabbles competition – we picked a bit of Ron art, and wrote a drabble based on it. I found some pretty Ron/Draco art titled [Punished and Pinned](http://deathjunke.livejournal.com/37710.html) by deathjunke.

“Don’t you _dare_ call her that again,” Ron growled as he dragged Draco’s top over his head. Draco’s head appeared from under the cloth, his hair ruffled and his face pink and cross.

“Don’t order me about.” Draco didn’t stop stripping. Ron kicked his own trousers off his ankles, stumbling and angrier because of it.

Draco had _sworn_ he would be polite. ‘Merlin strike me if I lie’ he’d said, holding a hand to his heart. Ron knew better than to believe him.

But he’d wanted to. Draco understood about a family that was the bedrock of your life, even when its members were thoughtlessly cruel or foolish. So –

“You said you were over the feud rubbish – ”

“I am!” Draco retorted. Ron could feel himself flushing as Draco threw himself onto the bed, careless, as if he’d abandoned all concern over the outside world along with his clothes. “You said I’d meet your family. Not your Mudblood ex.”

“That’s it!” Ron abandoned any thoughts beyond pinning Draco down and making him _sorry_. 

He lunged onto the mattress, not bothering to strip off his t-shirt. Ron put one hand firmly on the back of Draco’s neck, holding him down as he shifted in confusion. Then he brought the other down with a ringing smack on Draco’s backside.

Draco jerked. “Weasley!” 

Ron did it again.

And then kept doing it. Draco spluttered into the pillow but he didn’t fight– just squirmed enough that it was satisfying to hold him down.

His hands were big: made for slapping that ripe arse. Draco’s flesh quivered satisfyingly with each hit. Soon overlapping pink handprints covered his arse in blaring marks of possession. 

Draco flinched from the slaps at first; but as Ron kept going and the sounds filled the air, he seemed to be simply moving with them, his arse presented nicely for warming at Ron’s hands. 

Draco was making soft huffs of discomfort now. Ron felt only triumph in punishing him successfully. In being the authority.

But then he made a different noise, a pained grunt like he might cry. Ron stopped, feeling the slight ache in his arm, his hand resting thoughtfully on Draco’s blazing arse.

“You’re stopping?” There was a thread of unease in Draco’s voice. 

Ron leant closer, and pressed a kiss to Draco’s pale flank as he ran his hot hand soothingly up Draco’s other side. The contrast between the heat of Draco’s spanked cheeks and the smooth skin of his back was intoxicating. “For now.” He drew his hand back to Draco’s arse, and squeezed it, drawing a delicious whimper up Draco’s throat. “If you say you’re sorry, we can get to the reward-for-being-a-good-boy part.”

A tiny pause.

“I’m sorry!”

Ron laughed, low and deep like a lion’s purr, and shifted onto his knees. Nice to be in charge for once.


	8. Oliver Mellors' Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has a very predictable kink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the "sweat" prompt at rondracodrabble. Oliver Mellors is Lady Chatterley's gamekeeper. ;)

Draco liked to think he was an exciting, unpredictable lover. It was a little embarrassing, as a mildly deviant upper-class queer, to have such a predictable kink.

And yet watching his lower-class boyfriend do the gardening shirtless, sweating under the sun, made Draco's whole body tighten.

Twenty minutes in he dragged Ron from the half-mowed lawn to their bed. And Ron thought he couldn't show restraint!

“So does this make you Lady Chatterley?” Ron asked in amusement as Draco groped his chest.

Draco hid his blush in Ron's neck and became far too busy riding his boyfriend to reply.


	9. Rubbing Along All Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why had they thought moving in together was a good idea?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for rondracodrabble's prompt, "friction".

Why had they thought moving in together was a good idea?

Oh, right, because Ron had lived with eight other people, and four other boys at Hogwarts, and had always rubbed along all right. Only now he was trying to live with Draco, and Draco was such a picky only child about everything. They lived too close now, brushing up against each other every minute; the friction between them growing.

That night Ron bent Draco over, gripped his hips and went at it. Long, slow, steady strokes, and the friction grew and spread its heat between them until inevitably:

Explosion.


	10. The Scientific Method / An Artist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sort of diptych: Draco’s approach to sex, then Ron’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for rondracodrabble’s prompt, "art".

Draco liked to be precise about sex. He hadn’t had very much of it and he always worried he wasn’t very good. People always expected skilful depravity from the Malfoy heir. Fumbling and meaning well were not acceptable.

And this was _Weasley_ , and he was damn well going to leave this bed dazed by Draco’s prowess.

So Draco used a precise equation of licking, sucking, and caressing. He observed and catalogued Weasley’s sucking in of breath when Draco prepared him, his increased flush at Draco’s mouth on his thighs, his moan when he felt Draco’s cock between his cheeks.

~*~

Ron rolled them so he sat astride Malfoy’s thighs, shivering as the head of Malfoy’s cock teased along his entrance. Malfoy’s eyes were heated, but still calculating: sliding quickly over him, looking for reactions – weaknesses.

Ron shook his head. “Relax.”

“Pardon?”

“Lovemaking – ”

“Fucking – ”

“ _Lovemaking_ ,” Ron continued doggedly, because his mum had raised him right and he wasn’t changing for Malfoy, “isn’t a science, it’s an art.” 

“Oh really?”

“Yes,” and Ron took hold of Malfoy’s cock, and pushed himself down. Malfoy was big, sliding deliciously along long-neglected nerves.

Malfoy’s eyes widened and his fingers scrabbled at Ron’s thighs. Ron smiled.

~*~

Ron rode Malfoy’s cock, slow and slick. The feeling sparked lust all through him, but still better was the look on Malfoy’s face. His mouth was half-open, his eyes sliding slow and appreciative down Ron’s chest, his clenching thighs.

Ron couldn’t resist the tease of Malfoy’s nipples, pink and sweetly puckered. He pinched and teased, Malfoy’s skin hot under his fingers, Malfoy’s chest moving fast as he panted. Malfoy rubbed Ron’s back and squeezed his arse, their rhythm perfectly matched.

Malfoy’s eyes were dazed and gorgeous now: Ron came, and Malfoy followed.

Ron slumped onto his chest and mumbled, “masterpiece.”


	11. Glow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Their coupling creates more heat than light, Ron knows.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the rondracodrabble prompt, "bright".

Their coupling creates more heat than light, Ron knows: more lust and anger than anything more noble.

But as Malfoy has reminded him more than once, he’s not a hero. He’s the sidekick.

He’s willing to say ‘screw nobility’ if it means he can screw the villain.

They fuck just like you’d expect: pushing and biting and rough, with Malfoy’s eyes dark and Ron grinning when he forces a pained sound past Malfoy’s clenched teeth.

But afterwards Ron looks at Malfoy as he sprawls, bright-eyed and pink-cheeked and peering at his new bruises...

Afterglow is the perfect word for it.


	12. Light-Fingered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Draco has always been light-fingered."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for rondracodrabble's prompt, "fingers".

Draco had always been light-fingered. When he was twelve and nicked a sixth-year’s goblin-made Gobstones, prompting a shower of vengeance, Professor Snape had sneered and told him that whatever his parents would have him believe, not everything he wanted was his for the taking. Draco had kept quiet while Snape carefully healed Draco’s blisters -- bloody sixth-years -- but silently disagreed.

Ron Weasley’s long fingers were equally careful as they sifted through Draco’s bedroom, looking for signs of last night’s vigilantes. Draco stared.

“What?” Ron snapped. “Get out, Malfoy, or stop hovering!”

Draco left, but not without stealing a kiss.


	13. Scent Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Draco's blindfolded, but he recognises the smell as Ron runs the flogger under his nose."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the rondracodrabble prompt, "leather".

Scent is the most evocative sense.

Draco's blindfolded, but he recognises the smell as Ron runs the flogger under his nose, for all that his breathing's shallow: leather and suede. It's only air that's kissing his naked skin, for now: he hangs suspended, waiting. But the smell of the leather in Ron's hand makes Draco's whole body shudder pleasurably with the memories. Ron's deep chuckle follows the movement.

“There you go. Now, kiss it.”

Draco does so, letting his tongue flick against the thin straps. He hears Ron's footsteps as the other man circles behind him.

“Now count.”


	14. Christmas Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is not a fan of puns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the rondracodrabble prompt, "to give and to receive".

“Wanna go upstairs?” Ron murmured. Draco’s fine hair was tickling Ron’s nose, but it was worth it for Draco’s mouth on his neck. “We could get in the Christmas spirit... I hear it’s -- ”

“Don’t you dare! If you want to _give_ me some horrible pun as a come-on, you’ll be _receiving_ a hex to the bollocks!”

Ron nodded, crestfallen.

Draco sighed. “Damn your puppy-dog eyes... want a blowjob under the mistletoe?”

Ron grinned. Draco looked elaborately put-upon; but he worshipped Ron’s cock, and let Ron use the peppermint lube afterwards.

That was Christmas spirit all right.


	15. D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s an unexpected gift for Draco this Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for elainemalfoy's prompt on a drabble meme I did, "welcome to the family".

On Christmas morning Ron was barely awake before he was launching himself off the bed. “Presents!”

“What?” Draco said groggily. “Oh. What about sex?”

“After presents!”

Draco pouted.

“I’ll bring you breakfast in bed?”

“Do it the other way round and fuck me on the kitchen table.”

Ron grinned and leapt back into bed to indulge him. And fell asleep immediately afterwards.

He woke alone. “Draco?” he called, disgruntled. “Did you start on the presents without me?”

Draco walked back into their bedroom. He was naked below the waist, and for a moment Ron could focus on nothing but his leggy good looks and soft, but thick cock.

Draco hurrumphed, and Ron brought his gaze upwards, to find Draco wearing a confused frown and a blue woolly jumper with a D on it. He was picking at a loose thread in the jumper.

“Did you know your mum was sending me a present? I just sent her some flowers... is that enough? Ron, I know she doesn’t like me. Why’d she send me a jumper?”

“She was sending a message.”

“Oh?” Draco visibly tried to hide the anxiety evident in his tone.

Ron smiled at him. “Welcome to the family.”


	16. Sweet Tooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both have a thing for sweetness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for rondracodrabble's prompt, "sweet".

Draco had always sort of assumed he liked bad boys. It seemed logical: his mother clearly had a thing for them. Naturally a cold glare and a vicious remark should have his Slytherin self hot for it.

Then someone tripped him as he came into work, and Weasley helped him up. Large hands and body heat and the care with which Weasley touched him pierced Draco’s blistering humiliation. And Weasley was nice to Draco’s owl and didn’t shout when Draco got things wrong in his first week.

This was very upsetting. Draco hadn’t known he had a thing for sweetness.

~*~

His mother sent him sweets on Thursday mornings, because he hadn’t managed to make her stop. “Weasley?” Draco said, offering up the box. “My -- my mum sent me sweets. D’you want one?”

Ron’s blue eyes lit with amusement; but he visibly bit back comment, and took a Fizzing Whizzbee. “Thanks, Malfoy. I’ve got a massive sweet tooth.”

“Me too,” Draco agreed, over-eager: here was something they could bond over. “They’re really -- It’s. I go to this Belgian chocolate shop sometimes.”

“Nice for you,” said Ron, bitterness shading his deep voice. Draco bit his lip.

“Maybe you could -- come with me.”

~*~

Ron raised his eyebrows. Draco hated trying to ask out nice men already.

“Are you asking me out?”

Draco blinked twice. “Er -- ”

He felt a blush mercilessly overwhelm his face, and hyperbole overwhelm his interior monologue.

“And with sweets, too.” Ron’s cheeky grin lit up his face as he stood. Draco was tall but Ron was taller, and the solid breadth of his body so close made Draco’s breath catch.

Ron put both hands on Draco’s shoulders, his thumbs fitting the shape of Draco’s collarbone. His hands were a warm, strangely reassuring weight, considering the damage possible in that position.

~*~

Ron liked sharp, mouthy types; but he wasn’t a masochist, and he hadn’t been planning to take this stupid crush on Draco any further than drunken mooning with Bill about how much they liked blonds.

But now Ron could feel Draco’s chest moving under his hands, and his lips were parted. And he’d brought sweets.

“I -- well,” Draco started, blushing and looking down,, and Ron felt his heart squeeze.

He laid his mouth gently against Draco’s: it’s okay, me too, yes I’ll go out with you. Draco breathed out, in one long, relieved exhale, and Ron smiled against his mouth.

~*~

The date didn’t start as well as it could have. Draco was late and Ron was scruffy, and Ron thought they were both too used to going out with other people. Draco didn’t have any particular plan for the day, and Ron couldn’t easily guess what he wanted; it wasn’t like with Hermione.

But they went inside the shop together, and the heavy smell of rich, dark chocolate nearly brought Ron to his knees.

“Merlin.”

“I know,” Draco agreed, smiling, before helping himself to a chunk of dark chocolate off one shelf. He held it up between two fingers. “Taste?”

~*~

Ron eyed him warily, then opened his mouth. Draco’s face was pinkening again, but he held his chin up and even managed meaningful eye contact as the chocolate slid into Ron’s mouth.

Draco’s pale, intent eyes and the slightly powdery chocolate on his tongue and then the overwhelming, heavy taste as he bit down exploded in Ron’s mind. He reached --

“Weasley!” Draco hissed, wriggling away. “My _mother_ comes here!”

Ron scowled. Draco slipped him a small, naughty grin like a note passed in school, and said, “we’d better go back to my flat before you kiss me again.”


	17. Weasel King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You lost.” Ron’s triumphant voice sounded as if he were about to break into laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the rondracodrabble prompt, "tribute".

“You lost.” Ron’s triumphant voice sounded as if he were about to break into laughter.

Heat rose in Draco’s cheeks. He slammed his locker open unnecessarily hard and glared in at his towel and French shampoo.

“The Cannons, the ‘joke of the league’ I think you said, beat your team.”

Draco gritted his teeth. Bloody Weasley. When he was feeling confident, he flew like the wind was his to command.

“It was a fluke.”

“Maybe...” Ron said, the grin evident in his voice. “Or maybe it was because you were too busy staring at me to look for the Snitch.”

~*~

Draco whipped round from his locker to face Ron, and he felt his mouth go dry. Ron was sweaty and smiling and so vital that Draco felt overwhelmed.

Still: Draco could always rely on his sneer.

“Been delusional long?”

Ron stalked towards him: that usually-hidden hint of command was suddenly stark. “Quiet, Malfoy.” He put one large hand on the wall by Draco’s head; Draco was surrounded by him. Draco stared up into his blue eyes, breathless. “And if you must insult me... I like the old insults better.”

Draco dropped to his knees, and paid proper tribute to the king.


	18. Creature of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even being a vampire hasn’t made a dent in Weasley’s essential wholesomeness. Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for teenageworrier's prompt "vampire" in a drabble meme I did.

Draco sniggered. “You’re a vampire?”

“I am,” Weasley said coolly.

“A vampire with _freckles_?” Draco burst out laughing. “Your swooshy black cape doesn’t even fit!”

“I got it second-hand,” Weasley mumbled, fidgeting.

Draco burst into fresh peals of laughter. Which tailed off when he noticed Weasley was staring at him with unsettling focus, and that Weasley’s fangs were visible between those distracting lips.

“You want me to prove I’m a good vampire?” Weasley said, stepping forward. Draco took a step backwards without thinking, then cursed himself. Weasley smiled, exposing his fangs. “Maybe I should show you my big, healthy Weasley appetite.”

Even being a vampire hadn’t made a dent in Weasley’s essential wholesomeness, Draco told himself, trying to ignore his racing heart. He should not be hitting Draco’s vampire kink in any way at all. He wasn’t tall, dark or handsome - well, he wasn’t dark, anyway -

“I can smell arousal, you know,” murmured Weasley.

Draco gave him one frightened glance, then fled.

Weasley caught him immediately, throwing him against a wall. “Hooligan! I’ll be bruised later.”

“You certainly will be.” Weasley’s bright blue eyes had slitted pupils, and they were watching Draco’s pulse jump in his neck.

Draco shut his eyes. The rasping sound of his breath only emphasised that Weasley wasn’t breathing at all. “Are you... you wouldn’t kill me.”

“Certainly not,” Weasley agreed. Draco felt the slight, shuddery scrape of a fang down the sensitive skin of his neck. Weasley’s tongue flickered out to taste his skin for a moment. “Might bite you, though.”

Draco opened his eyes. “You can’t - !”

He gave one long groan, going limp in Weasley’s arms, as Weasley sank his fangs into Draco’s throat.

Draco raged at himself inside: swooning in Weasley’s arms! He was no pallid blond virgin. Well, not a virgin, anyway. But the bite was blinding, erotic, agonising - and his legs were parting.

Weasley slid his thigh between Draco’s, rubbing it against Draco’s hard cock. Draco wheezed, moaning and clutching at Weasley’s shoulders helplessly as Weasley rubbed and sucked and brought Draco inescapably to orgasm.

Weasley withdrew his teeth, drawing another pained gasp from Draco.

“See? I found you on a dark night and bit you and you came because of my dark sexual power. I am a great vampire!”

Silence, except for Draco’s laboured breathing.

“I am!” insisted Weasley. He poked Draco. “I am!”


	19. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron’s finally an Auror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the rondracodrabble prompt, "milestone".

Ron was still grinning when they got back to their room, an hour after he’d been handed his gradation certificate. Draco had nabbed it, seeing that Ron was about to tear the parchment with his grip, and so now Ron was simply smoothing his brand-new Auror robes with a slightly shaking hand.

“Are you changing for the party?” Draco asked.

“I’m not going.”

“What? But it’s the big celebration – ”

“It’s not how I want to celebrate.”

Ron smiled wickedly and Draco felt himself flush helplessly. Ron pounced, flattening him against the bed.

“I want to play Aurors and Death Eaters.”


	20. Getting Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron helps Draco get up from where he was before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for rondracodrabble's prompt, "wake up".

_Voldemort’s withering eyes on him. His aunt’s cackle. Greyback’s hand, dragging him backwards –_

“Wake up!”

Draco woke like someone drowning and coming up for air: panting, struggling against the duvet, terrified he was trapped down there. He saw worried blue ones, hovering over him, and said, “Ron?”

“Yeah. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

Ron did not look convinced. He sat back, his worried face striped with pink from the early-morning light. “You wanna go flying?”

“I’m warm.”

Ron laughed at him. “Liar, I know you want to!” He offered Draco his hand, and helped him up with a smile.


	21. Spectacular

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco’s making a spectacle of himself on the dancefloor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the rondracodrabble prompt, "spectacle".

Draco was dancing.

Ron was ensconced in a corner of the club with Greg, grumbling about the situation. Which was how most of their club nights went, so Ron didn’t know why Draco kept trying to inveigle him into leather: the chair leather would just squeak against the trousers all night. 

Ron took a long sip of Bitterbeer, his eyes fixed on Draco. His boyfriend was making an utter exhibition of himself on the dancefloor. The long pale lines of his arms and neck drew the eyes, his slow smile invited, his body moved like it ached to be touched.

~*~

The men dancing with Draco – the others dancing near him with hungry eyes that followed his low-swinging hips – wanted him. And that sent a slow, filthy thrill through him. Ron had waited his whole life to own something everyone else wanted.

Draco knew it, too. Ron would take him home later, and wag a finger at him. “You made a complete spectacle of yourself tonight.” Draco would flush and look down, but he’d be grinning; he’d swing his hips as he went up the stairs. Draco had waited his whole life to be the most precious thing someone else had.

~*~

Draco seemed to feel the intensity of Ron’s eyes on him: he turned.

This moment always lit up his insides: when Draco left the dancefloor and his admirers for _him_. Draco crossed the club with eyes focused on Ron, and kissed him. He pressed lips and body close, insinuating himself into Ron’s arms. He was determined to wriggle his way into Ron’s embrace every time, as if he didn’t know the place was his by right.

That devotion made Ron forget possession and triumph and even sex to come; he closed his eyes, shutting out the watchers, and kissed back.


	22. Burrower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron’s always been the kind to stay close to home - clubs have never held much appeal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for rondracodrabble's prompt, "heart".

Ron’s always been the kind to stay close to home: to light, and food, and the comfort of warm bodies and voices mingling. Clubs have never held much appeal; his social life takes place in warm corners of his world.

Feeling his way towards friendship with Draco, he starts to spend long hours away from his flat: they spend hours in cafes and parks instead. It’s out of character, but it’s the least peculiar thing in his life just now so Ron doesn’t question it. He returns to his flat only to sleep.

Then he stops coming home to sleep.

~*~

Now it’s even harder to drag himself away. He should be visiting the Burrow: his real home, cosy and lived-in as old shoes. But Draco’s warm and dozy and wearing nothing but bruises in the shape of Ron’s mouth, and he can’t make himself move.

Ron manages not to need his own territory quite so much; he’s carving out a space of his own in Draco’s life, and the place at Draco’s table that’s his and the drawers with his terrible Mad Marvin boxers inside are enough.

Home is where the heart is, so why would he be anywhere else?


	23. Pansy Cissy Draco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you think our names affect who we are?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for rondracodrabble's prompt, "pansy".

“Do you think our names affect who we are?” Draco asked idly. He shifted his head on Ron’s bare thigh, staring at the ceiling. “Words have power – they’re spells, and identities too... d’you think if my parents had named me Bob I’d have been a different person?”

Apparently Hermione had left Ron with a taste for people who talked about philosophy after hot sex. He stroked Draco’s tangled, soft hair and thought about it. “You might have been less snotty if you didn’t have a name that was in the school motto.”

“People teased me about that,” Draco said mournfully.

~*~

He sat up to give Ron his sad puppy-Draco eyes better. “Greg laughed at me about it _all the time_.”

“You poor soul.” Ron rolled his eyes at him, and Draco put his head back in Ron’s lap, huffing. This was not the punishment it was meant to be.

“I think your family and friends matter, as well as names. Look at you.” Draco gave him an inquiring look. “Well, really Draco – your mother’s name is Cissy and your girlfriend’s name was Pansy. How could you _not_ turn out gay?”

“Actually, I think it was Professor Snape calling Father ‘Lucy’.”


	24. Fuck The Formalities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "On Monday morning Draco found a bouquet on his desk: tuberose, for dangerous love. There wasn’t a card."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the rondracodrabble prompt, "formalities".

On Monday morning Draco found a bouquet on his desk: tuberose, for dangerous love. There wasn’t a card; probably from some ugly old man. Nobody rough enough to appeal to Draco sent flowers.

On Tuesday, it was hazel: reconciliation. Still no card.

On Wednesday, he came in early and caught Ron Weasley, of all people, leaving coriander flowers: lust. “What the...?”

Weasley’s ears turned red. “Er, I thought you’d like me to court you properly.”

Draco cocked his head, and considered. Tall, big hands... “Fuck the formalities.”

“What?”

“Get moving. We’re going to my flat to have extremely impolite sex.”


	25. The Perfect Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron forgot their anniversary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for rondracodrabble's prompt, "date".

“Oh no, oh shit – ” Ron threw his Chudley Cannons calendar across his office and leapt for the Floo. It was eight-thirty and he was still at work. On his anniversary. Draco would skin him alive.

He came out in his dining room. On the polished mahogany table there was a burnt-down candle and a note.

_Dear Ron,_

_I knew you’d forget. So here is my anniversary present to you: when you come upstairs, I will be naked and willing and I won’t shout at you. The only thing I will say is “yes” and “please” and “more”._

_Your Draco._


	26. Riots (Are A Public Menace)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ron couldn’t understand what Draco was thinking, wanting to announce their deviance." Aka Ron starts overcoming some internalised homophobia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for Sorting Hat Drabbles; the pairing was Ron/Draco, and the prompt was "stone walls".

Ron sat irritably in the Muggle archive, watching Hermione read. She was quiet and intent, moving only to turn the pages – always carefully, as if she were handling a small pet. It reminded him of touching Draco.

Such pale skin, that he kept bruising because he’d never had this before and Draco was gorgeous and always teasing him, using that sly smile and slick tongue, making him desperate. Making him grab and clutch at Draco’s flesh, only to gasp in contrition later when he saw the marks.

He tried to be gentle. Draco’s skin was flawless: except for where it wasn’t, and then Ron traced the thin scars and kissed the few, amusing freckles on his chest. Draco got impatient, sighing theatrically and threatening to go and fuck a Slytherin. Ron wrestled him back down, laughing, and it was back to bruises and bites. As always.

That was over now. Ron couldn’t understand what Draco was thinking, wanting to announce their deviance.

Ron might get away with it; wizarding homophobia was about the need for children, and Ron’s five – four brothers could take care of that. But Draco was the last Malfoy.

Ron’s family didn’t know. Draco, pink-cheeked and furious, had said he was a coward. “It’s not concern for what people think of _me_. You just can’t bear being the family failure again. It would be so shaming.”

He’d spat the word _shaming_ , mouth twisting around it as if it tasted bitter.

Ron needed a distraction. He turned to Hermione and said, “tell me about your research.”

Hermione was always eager to share knowledge. “I’m looking into the Stone Wall Riots, among other things...” Ron tried, but he tuned out automatically at Hermione’s lecturing voice and daydreamed instead.

Britain was built of stone walls; medieval ruins that marked its history, and spoke of its lengthy past. The wizarding world was formed almost entirely of stone, because stone took wards for protection and privacy the best. Hogwarts’ stone walls, impregnated with ward upon spell upon charm to protect the children of wizards from Muggle eyes, had always meant safety. Malfoy Manor’s meant tradition, and pureblood wealth, and power. And Draco wanted to abandon that?

On the other hand... Ron would love to claim Draco in public so those hussies would stop flirting with him. (‘Hussy’ was just the middle-aged sort of word Draco would make fun of.) “This is my boyfriend, Draco.” Ron tried the words out in his head.

Hermione was still talking... about gay people, rioting against oppression. The Stonewall Inn: a place where people like him and Draco had gone. A place that had sparked rebellion.

Hermione went back to her reading, and Ron thought for a long time, staring at the grimy wall. If ‘stone wall’ could mean rebellion as well as tradition, if riots could reverberate and cause the good kind of change...

Maybe he could send a shock through the stone walls of the pureblood establishment, and come out better on the other side.


	27. Singed But Grinning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll confess tonight that I’m seeing you.”
> 
> “Is that how you think of it? _Confessing_?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for a rondracodrabble prompt.

Ron bent to tie his shoelaces, then stood. Draco was still reclining in bed. Used to Draco’s tactics, Ron carefully avoided his sultry gaze; he could only take the afternoon off so many times.

“Ron...” Draco’s voice wasn’t seductive or playful, but carefully blank. That made Ron look up into serious grey eyes, and sigh.

“I’ll confess tonight that I’m seeing you.”

“Is that how you think of it? _Confessing_? I’m a sin, a vice to be purged?” Draco’s voice always trembled when he was hurt.

“I didn’t... I’m sorry.” Ron leant to kiss Draco, but he turned his face away.

~*~

Ron’s shoulders sagged a little, and he left. Draco remained naked amongst the silk sheets; usually a sensual delight, now simply reminding him that Ron wasn’t sharing them.

Ron was an excellent shag, and over long weekends when Ron pretended he was on assignments, they played chess naked (later finding pawns in the bedsheets) and ate foreign foods their mothers disapproved of.

But the thought that soured Draco’s heart kept intruding: Ron would never leave his warm, cosy, conservative family.

Twenty minutes later, Ron shot back through the Floo. “So,” he panted, singed but grinning. “Can I stay here tonight?”


	28. Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco offers Ron a massive, shiny ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a drabble meme; this was written for ebilgatoloco’s prompt, "engagement ring".

“Will you marry me?”

Ron was not accustomed to feeling so nervous when Draco was kneeling before him. But this time Draco was on one knee, his face turned up to Ron’s, pale and luminous as a night-blooming flower.

He was holding a hereditary Malfoy engagement ring.

“Yes,” Ron said, feeling the moment crash over him in a tidal wave: joy, amazement, and a sense of slotting in. Like something inside him was saying, _naturally._

Draco’s grey eyes were two stars. Ron grinned and reached down, drawing Draco to his feet, and kissed him. Draco made soft sounds against his mouth, clutching at Ron’s shoulders in transparent relief.

Ron let Draco put the ring on his finger without complaint: the best act of love he’d ever give.

The thing was huge, hideous, and obviously meant for a woman. Ornate fiddly bits surrounded a diamond the size of his thumb joint. Ron looked at it, and gave Draco a queasy smile.

Draco would probably let him swap the ring for something less ostentatious: once they’d had a few rounds of celebratory sex, anyway.

The ring on his finger would not feel good up Draco’s arse at _all._


	29. An Enormous Talent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron likes to sing in the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for a meme I did, for entrenous88’s prompt, “Ron actually has a lovely singing voice.” The song was nicked from Maya.

Ron shut his eyes against the sting of cheap shampoo and kept singing, enjoying the echoes of his voice around the Quidditch changing rooms; they made his voice sound deep and loud and impressive, like a grown man instead of a seventeen-year-old who couldn’t catch a Quaffle. “Oh I may not be a whiz on the Quidditch pitch, but I’m chased over town by every witch, who knows that I’m a legend in the changing room, because I’ve got an enormous - “

“No need to show off.”

Ron swiped the foam off his face and turned, grinning guiltily. “Hi Draco.”

~*~

Thirty-five minutes later, Ron emerged from the changing rooms with Draco pressed against his side. Draco was giggling, and the smell of his damp hair was intoxicating, and -

Ron stopped. “Harry.”

Harry was changed from practice, and fidgeting. “I wanted to talk about strategies for the next game against Slytherin.”

“Please, go right ahead,” Draco said cheerily. “I’ll just stand here unobtrusively until you’ve finished.”

Ron tried to subtly elbow him.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry scowled, reddening. “Don’t think I don’t know what you were doing in there.”

Ron blushed while Draco gave his dirtiest grin. “What ever do you mean?”

~*~

“You were - with him! - distracting him.”

“I was not,” said Draco. Ron started praying that soon this conversation would end. Or that Hermione would come. “Ron was distracting _me_ from my dastardly spying on Gryffindors’ Quidditch practice. He was in the shower - ”

“ _Draco_ \- ”

“Singing,” Draco finished. “Ron actually has a lovely singing voice.”

“...Oh.”

“He’s got an enormous talent,” Draco said, grinning as Harry got paler and paler. “Really enjoyable, it goes so deep. You should ask him to show you some time.”

“Hey! My talents are only for you.”

“I know.” Draco kissed him.


	30. Memoriam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone else remembers it as the day Voldemort was defeated. Draco remembers it as the day he got one of his best friends killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for a meme, for ellensmithee’s prompt, "ties that bind."

Everyone else remembered it as the day Voldemort was defeated.

Draco remembered it as the day he got one of his best friends killed.

Vince’s name went unmentioned in the yearly tributes. So Draco went and sat in the graveyard alone every year, tracing the carved letters of Vince’s name.

Until he heard Weasley’s voice, as he swore at the brother sleeping under the turf.

Then Draco went over, and waited until Weasley turned away with red eyes.

They stared, waiting to see if the other would say no more, I don’t need this, you’re not my only option for someone who _understands -_

Draco was twenty-three, and it hadn’t happened yet.

~*~

Draco always felt a moment of misgiving - Ron’s eyes were burning blue -

Ron’s hand would fly out, but he only caught Draco’s arm, and Apparated them.

The room was full of Chudley Cannons posters, a blur of orange as Ron pushed him backwards to the bed. Draco wouldn’t open his legs without Ron pushing, made him swear and sweat and shove so Draco shouted from the pain.

He let Ron think it was just masochism; he didn’t think Ron would let him make restitution if he knew.


	31. Guilty Conscience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ron worried, sometimes, that Draco’s liking for being spanked and caned and told he was bad came from his lingering guilt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the Ron/Draco drabble-a-thon, for elainemalfoy’s prompt, "guilty conscience".

Ron worried, sometimes, that Draco’s liking for being spanked and caned and told he was bad came from his lingering guilt. That when Ron fucked him and made it hurt, Draco wasn’t looking for orgasm, but forgiveness.

But Ron’s enjoyment of doing those things to Draco didn’t come from anger, Ron was sure of that.

Besides, Draco was the one who’d introduced Ron to kink; he needed it. He’d been nervous of telling Ron what he wanted, afraid Ron would be horrified. Ron knew he could be conventional, and he didn’t want to prove Draco’s nervousness justified with close-minded assumptions.

~*~

Then came the trip to the Burrow for George’s birthday. The first birthday that had ever been George’s alone.

It had been going so well. Despite the awkwardness and the lingering grudges, despite the way Draco constantly pulled down his left sleeve, Draco had managed to fit in with Ron’s family. He spoke good French, and Charlie was a forgiving type, so Ron’s oldest brothers and Fleur all liked him now.

Draco dressed in nice robes and lifted a glass to George’s health over dinner, and fit in well.

But George was pissed by half-eight, with grief eating at him.

~*~

Worse, Ron and Draco were alone with him while the rest of the family went to collect a surprise.

“Does it bother you, Malfoy?”

Draco jumped at George’s slurred voice. Ron touched his arm in a gesture of support as George crossed the sitting room to loom over Draco, but Draco didn’t look at him. He was too busy staring up at George, face pale and still: an unhappy ice sculpture.

“Fred would’ve been alive if it weren’t for you - you’re why Hogwarts fell.” George lowered his face aggressively towards Draco’s. “So does it bother you, looking at me?”

~*~

“George, stop it,” Ron said sharply. Neither man paid attention.

“Sometimes,” whispered Draco.

George laughed, a hoarse barking sound. “Sometimes! And Bill? When you’re charming Fleur d’you remember you got him scarred for life?“

“Stop it,” Ron said again, and pushed George gently back. George staggered, his expression aghast.

“What’re you doing?”

“Whatever he did,” Ron said more calmly than he felt, “Draco is my boyfriend. I’m not going to let you bully him. We’re going home.”

Draco was still frozen on the sofa. But he let Ron throw Floo powder into the hearth and hustle him home.

~*~

They burst through into their own sitting room. Draco was still silent, and Ron could feel him shaking a little. “Draco, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it go on so long - it’s just, today’s hard for him, and he was drunk, I didn’t want... but it’s no excuse. You wait, when everyone finds us gone and hears what he said, he’s gonna be very sorry.”

Draco barely seemed to hear him. “Yes. I suppose.” He left the sitting room. Ron followed, concerned, as Draco went to their room and delved in the wardrobe.

He brought out a cane.


	32. Markings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Draco can remember a time when he scorned Ron’s freckles."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for rondracodrabble's prompt, "freckles".

Draco can remember a time when he scorned Ron’s freckles. They were as much a mark of the lower classes as a farmer’s tan. Not like Draco’s pale skin, that he was so proud of: his pallor marked him as a Malfoy, and he kept his skin flawless with glamours – and curses. Only Dark magic can keep a teenager’s skin clear.

Now Ron’s wholesome freckles charm Draco, and his skin is no longer clear. The _Sectumsempra_ scar makes him wince, but it’s not like the knot of dead tissue on his arm, where the snake and skull used to be.

~*~

Ron can remember clearly how jealous he was of Draco’s skin when he was a teenager. He had so many spots and freckles and Draco was unblemished. Ron was bitterly resentful; he wished he could hex Draco, cover him with marks.

Now both those things have happened to Draco, but he’s even more beautiful than he was before. The first time Ron saw him naked, Draco saw his eyes fall to the Mark and shuddered. He curled up on Ron’s sheets, pulling his arm tight against his body.

That moment is the only clear memory Ron has of that night.

~*~

They’ve learnt each other’s bodies since; memorised every line. Ron knows that if you pull Draco’s hair, his legs fall open; Draco can interpret the timbre of Ron’s different moans. Ron’s learnt how to draw a delightful blush; Draco’s learnt to kiss Ron’s earlobes.

Their pasts and families are written in the marks left by their lives: Ron’s Weasley hair and scarred arms; Draco’s Malfoy nose and Dark Mark. Everything that should keep them apart is etched on their bodies, but their bodies draw close nonetheless.

Afterwards, they curl up together, and Ron’s freckled arms hold Draco’s marked body close.


	33. Resolution My Left Buttock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's meant to be working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for rondracodrabble's prompt, "fresh start".

Ron woke up in sheets with a pretentiously high thread-count at eleven-thirty. Luckily Ron, like all sensible people, took a holiday on New Year’s Day.

Draco wasn’t sensible. He suddenly shot upright, quivering like a greyhound. “I’m late!”

“You’re self-employed. Stay.” Ron made a brave attempt at a sultry look.

Draco wavered, then – “I made a resolution to stop lounging in bed with you.”

Huffing, Ron turned his back. Two seconds later, a body landed heavily on his.

“What the hell – ?”

Draco murmured into his ear between licks, “don’t you know New Year’s resolutions are made to be broken?”


	34. Five Stages Of Falling In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Irritatingly, Ron’s recovery after the war fit the Healer’s list of prescribed emotions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the rondracodrabble prompt, "recovery".

Irritatingly, Ron’s recovery after the war fit the Healer’s list of prescribed emotions.

**Denial**

He went to the party that was held three days after Voldemort’s defeat, still blank. He was certain Fred was going to return, laughing at their foolishness, and he wasn’t going to miss it.

Fred didn’t come back, and he ended the night snogging Draco Malfoy in a dark corner. 

**Anger**

The next day he was practically crawling out of his skin. He had to escape the Burrow, and headed for Diagon Alley. He strode through it, anger beating inside him like a drum, barely seeing the cheery shoppers.

Malfoy caught his arm near Knockturn. “Ron! Buy you a drink?”

That inexplicable fury ignited. “With you? You know it’s your kind that killed my brother, don’t you? He’s _dead_ , he’s not coming back, and I’m not dishonouring his memory by consorting with the likes of you!”

Draco – Malfoy – went grey, and let go of Ron’s arm. He curled his hands close to him, backing away, grey eyes dismayed.

**Bargaining**

_If Mum’s not crying when I get home, I’ll say I’m sorry._

_If I can’t find evidence he’s done something bad recently, I’ll say I’m sorry._

_If Harry thinks I should, I’ll say I’m sorry._

He couldn’t find the nerve to fulfill any of them.

**Depression**

Ron huddled on the sofa for three days, staring at the empty fireplace. It stubbornly refused to flare up, looking as cold and ashy as his insides felt.

**Acceptance**

On the first anniversary of Voldemort’s defeat, Draco attended the mourning ceremony with Ron. They were hand-in-hand.

Afterwards, they went back to Ron’s new flat. Ron cried a bit, and they got take-away and cuddled. One thing led to another, and halfway through Ron kissed the scarred flesh of Draco’s forearm.

Acceptance.


	35. Energy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Draco fight, then make up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for rondracodrabble's prompt, "away". Credit for “you have that same energy. All by yourself” goes to ’s fantastic [A Slytherin In Gryffindor Clothing](http://www.fictionalley.org/authors/mahaliem/ASIGC.html).

“If you’d just _try_ – ”

“Maybe I’m sick of trying,” Draco shouted back. “You’ve no idea – or you wouldn’t give me this bollocks about _trying_ , like that fixes everything – ”

“I know trying isn’t everything,” Ron stormed, his face scarlet. He was looming-close, but Draco refused to back away. “But you could make an effort, show some loyalty – ”

“You’re one to talk about that – everyone knows you ran away from Potter in the woods!”

Ron’s eyes went flat and dull. “Fuck you.” He slammed out.

Draco stared at the door with dry eyes and felt ice flood his body.

~*~

He stood in his flat for twelve minutes, shivering. He shouldn’t have said that, what if Ron never came back –

He ran out, determined to Apparate after Ron, and tripped over him. He was sitting on Draco’s doorstep.

Draco couldn’t speak.

“I ran away because I couldn’t take the isolation,” Ron said, staring determinedly at his hands. “I’m used to a big family, I need the energy of something always happening.” He looked up, and pinned Draco with his blue eyes. “You have that same energy. All by yourself.”

Draco collapsed next to him. Ron put his arm round him.


	36. Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco’s sent on a journey to somewhere new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for rondracodrabble's prompt, "bon voyage".

Draco tried very hard not to throw up on the boat to Azkaban. He was curled around the hard ball of fear in his stomach, and the manacles around his wrists were painfully heavy.

Draco stared at the grey sky. He was still staring upwards as the Aurors dragged him from the boat: he might not see the sky again.

_The use of any one of the Unforgivable curses, for any reason, on another human being, is enough to earn you a life sentence in Azkaban._

It had been a Death Eater who’d taught him that; but he’d been right. Well, at least if you were stupid and ruined everything, if you had made a life and almost finished your five years’ parole but someone made you so furious and you hexed their mouth shut.

So fucking stupid.

“Hello?”

Draco’s head jerked up at the sound of that voice: that voice that was warmth and laughter and strength offered, all the things that were anathema to Azkaban.

Ron was standing outside the gates of Azkaban, his hair flaming against the grey prison and the grey sky and the grey sea. He was wearing his Auror robes - Draco remembered the first time Ron had put them on, how proud he’d looked - and his face was pale.

“Yeah, Weasley?”

“I’m supposed to take Malfoy from here. Make sure he doesn’t try anything.”

There was a little silence while Draco felt the air leave his lungs.

Corrigan put a hand on Draco’s shoulder, her fingers digging in. “You got orders?”

Ron produced a crumpled bit of paper and thrust it at her. “Hand him over.” Ron’s voice was tight. He wasn’t looking at Draco, though Draco couldn’t look away from him. Ron had been banned from visiting Draco during his trial and sentencing. Seeing him now - the strong shoulders and the bright blue eyes and the faded freckles - felt unreal.

Corrigan scowled, but obeyed. She Apparated away with her colleague, leaving Draco and Ron alone on the bluff.

“Draco,” Ron said hoarsely. “It’s - here’s a Portkey. I forged the orders but they won’t realise until you’re away. I’ve got your wand - here - they won’t catch you. Not if you keep running.”

Ron tapped Draco’s chains with his wand, muttering under his breath. They fell away and Draco grabbed Ron’s shoulders, kissing him. Thrills shocked through him at the kiss: like his body was coming alive again now it touched its other half.

Ron pulled away, though he was smiling. “Me too, but - here. It’ll take you in a minute.”

Draco took the key Ron handed him, but frowned. “Shouldn’t we hold on together?”

“I - no. I’m sorry, Draco. If I go with you, we’ll be caught, and I - you can’t go to Azkaban. Not after everything.”

Draco went numb. “But - you’ll come in a bit. Ron, you can’t - they’ll know it was you - ”

“I’ll be fired, but they can’t arrest me unless they get you back - former Aurors can’t be forced to take Veritaserum. So you have... you have to not come back.” Ron was audibly choking on the words. Painful chills swept Draco’s body. Not imprisonment, but exile.

Ron touched his face, his fingers warm against Draco’s chilled cheek. His eyes were travelling over Draco’s face like he couldn’t get enough, and his smile was trembling. “Bon voyage.”

Draco shut his eyes against the sting of tears as the Portkey began to work.

He kept them shut for long moments after it whisked him away, not wanting to open them and see this new place instead of Ron’s eyes.


	37. Grime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Obsession. It had a perverse grandeur.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for rondracodrabble's prompt, "broken".

_Obsession._

It had a perverse grandeur. There was glamour inherent in the term, in the idea of that state of bright, raw eyes and a mind twisted and broken round one concept like barbed wire twisted round a fence. Yet obsession was ultimately a tawdry emotion. It was pathetic, to be obsessed with anything, unless it was a person who was obsessed back. And to be obsessed with someone who had no real capacity for obsession, and who bestowed what little he had on another – it was degrading.

Draco felt himself sinking willingly into grime every time he followed him.


	38. They Did Not Cover This In Teacher Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape is not paid enough for this. Warning: sex switch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for a drabble meme, for ellensmithee’s prompt "potions accident".

Severus was in a bad mood. He was often in a bad mood, but generally he kept his students cowed enough not to push him.

This particular class of fifth years, however, involved one boy confident in Severus’ favouritism, and another too furious to retain what few brains he had. Said boys were currently snarling at each other over their cauldrons.

“Sod off, Malfoy, it’s got nothing to do with you - ”

“Wanting to keep your dangerous liaisons with Potter private, then?”

“Just because you’ve got no real friends - ”

Malfoy moved like a striking snake, throwing something, and Weasley’s cauldron exploded.

~*~

Screams burst from the class at the noise: today’s potion wasn’t even noxious, unlike Malfoy, but paranoia generally served students well around exploding cauldrons.

Severus merely sighed and waited for the smoke to dissipate.

When it did, Weasley was still standing there, gaping but himself. He did, however, look rather more like his sister.

“I’m going to _kill_ you, Malfoy!”

“Mmm,” Malfoy responded, staring.

Severus wondered if going to Azkaban for Death Eating would have been so much worse than teaching adolescents magic.

“Go and borrow a bra, Weasley, before Mr Malfoy’s eyes fall out of his head.”


	39. The Humility Rites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco chooses to perform the Humility Rites. Warning for non-completed WIP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the rondracodrabble prompt, "apology".

“No. No.” Lucius grabbed Draco’s arm, and Draco turned. Grey eyes glazed with fear, but determined: a look he’d seen on his son’s face too many times. “You can’t. I forbid it!” he said in desperation.

A frown drew Draco’s brows down. “You would have our family renege on honoured traditions?”

Lucius looked at him in disbelief, pain splintering through angry words. “Better to lose my honour than my son!”

Draco’s eyes narrowed in sudden, shocking hate. “You said family honour was the most important thing. _You_ said I should show some humility, and obey!”

“Don’t you dare use that against me!”

~*~

Lucius had only seen that sneer, those raging grey eyes, in the mirror before today. He knew in that moment that he would lose.

Draco matched his height. When had he grown up?

“Don’t tell me what to do, not when your choices led us all to ruin. Show some humility yourself, Father, and let me _finally_ do the right thing!”

“But – your mother.” Lucius felt no shame at the pleading note in his voice.

Draco swallowed, his voice wavering. “She’ll understand.”

Narcissa’s voice sounded from behind the two men, its cadence and impossible grace unchanged, even now. “Understand what?”

~*~

They swung round together, and Lucius was forcibly reminded of summer days with illegally baked biscuits and Draco’s crumbs-encrusted, guilty face always giving them away. But Narcissa was paler and thinner than she’d been then, fragile as the glass birds on her windowsill. Sickening, unfamiliar guilt slammed into his stomach.

“Mother, I – I...” Draco stammered. He stared at her with wide eyes, but shuddered and found calm. “The Weasleys, Mother. I need to – we’ve stolen children from them, unrightfully, and someone – ”

True shock sent Narcissa’s face cold and white, as if touching her would give you frostbite. “The Humility Rites?”

~*~

“I have to.”

Narcissa’s face convulsed: a wave of emotion was visible under the thin ice of her composure. Then she shut her eyes, hiding her expression.

Lucius felt ill. How would he save Draco from this decision without his mother? Draco obeyed him but he _adored_ her, if she begged him he would stop – 

“Narcissa – ”

“No, Lucius. He needs this. And it may save him from Azkaban.”

Lucius swallowed dryly.

“Mr and Mrs Weasley?” Draco’s voice cracked only a little. They turned, red-eyed and weary, and saw Draco sink to his knees before them.

“I invoke the Humility Rites.”


	40. Keeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron’s a Keeper. So is Draco. (The author hopes the phrase ‘that one’s a keeper’, ie somebody you should keep as your romantic partner, is an international one.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the rondracodrabble prompt, "storm".

The storm made Quidditch impossible. After an hour in the pub, the Cannons’ Keeper and the Arrowheads’ Seeker disappeared.

Draco giggled into Ron’s shirt as they stumbled up the stairs. Ron creased up at the feel of Draco’s breath against his neck.

Draco opened the door and they fell in together. Draco pushed Ron to the floor, his grey eyes alight. “Gotcha! I’m good at catching shiny things, all for me.”

“You are,” Ron said and flipped Draco onto his back, straddling him. He smiled down at Draco’s disgruntled face. “But I’m good at keeping them. All for me.”

~*~

He stroked the back of his fingers over the curve of Draco’s cheek. Draco flinched from the touch, staring up at him in irritable confusion.

“What d’you – ”

“Exclusivity. I want this particular pretty, shiny thing to be really just for me.”

Draco eyed him suspiciously, even as his breathing sped up: Ron was unbuttoning Draco’s shirt. “Only exclusivity? Not going public or holding hands or declaring true love?”

Ron smiled. “Seekers might rush around, trying to get the shiny thing as fast as they can… but I’m willing to take my time.”

Shiny things like wedding bands would come later.


	41. Trade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron takes Draco to his regular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for rondracodrabble's prompt, "pub".

“You said if we went riding, I could choose the next date.”

“This is not equal payment! I let you ride one of the best stallions in Britain!”

“It _bit_ me.”

“If you’d handled him right – ”

“Horses are evil, just ask the Trojans. Now will you please come inside with me? I’ll buy you a drink.”

Draco made a terrible face, but he followed Ron into the pub.

Which was all right by Ron: the Slaughtered Lamb was his regular, and it did his ego no harm at all to come strolling in with a handsome blond at his heels.

~*~

He bought them both Bitterbeers, and led Draco to a corner booth. Draco whispered a cleaning charm and sat.

“So what do you think?” Ron asked, cheerfully preparing to hear his pub eviscerated by Draco’s wicked tongue. _Wicked tongue…_ He dropped a hand onto Draco’s knee.

Draco tensed under his hand. Ron didn’t move it, and slowly Draco relaxed against him. He stroked his fingertips over Draco’s kneecap, and watched his eyes dilate.

A pause.

“I suppose it’s sort of acceptable,” Draco allowed grudgingly. He was looking intently at his pint glass.

Ron hid his grin in his own.


	42. Built For It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron’s built to be a good Keeper, not like Draco’s skinny little Seeker self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for a drabble meme, for teenageworrier's prompt "Keeper".

“You’re shit,” Draco snarled. “Your whole stupid team. You couldn’t catch the Quaffle if your life depended on it, you - ”

“Funny, since we won,” retorted Ron. “I’m a good Keeper, and I’m built for it, so shut it.”

Draco sneered. “You’re built like an anorexic gorilla!”

“Yep.” Ron shoved him backwards against the wall. Draco yelped breathlessly, winded by the impact. “You’re in trouble now, aren’t you, little Seeker?”

Ron’s height and weight advantage was inescapable at this distance. Draco stared up at Ron, feeling bruises start to form where Ron was holding him, and smiled.

“I suppose I am.”


	43. Once Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco’s parents find out. Angst ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for rondracodrabble's prompt, "remember".

“My parents found out.”

Ron froze. He didn’t quite dare reach for Draco’s warmth, not when Draco looked so hunched and so pale.

“They said... look, Ron, they need me. I can’t hurt them like this, not when Father just left Azkaban. It’s meant to be our happy ending.”

_Right,_ Ron wanted to say, _OUR happy ending._ But the words stuck in his throat. He just stared, his hands still reaching for Draco. Draco’s fingers twitched by his sides, as if he wanted to touch too.

“This has to end. I can’t see you any more.”

~*~

Ron lasted ten grinding, miserable days before he went to Malfoy Manor and half-yelled Draco’s names at the elf who answered his thumping at the door.

Draco appeared looking impossibly Malfoy: tall and elegant in navy robes, not a hair out of place. He looked just as he had before Ron knew what it was to have Draco pink-faced and in pieces under him, and still Ron’s whole body throbbed with the need to touch him.

“Weasley?” Draco sounded utterly incredulous.

“Draco. I... look, this is crazy. Who cares if they know? If anyone knows? We still love each other.”

~*~

_“What?”_ Draco’s faced twisted up in shock, his voice blank with incredulity.

“We do. Or I love you, and you like me. You’re a grown-up, Draco, and so am I, or we’d never have got this far, and this doesn’t have a thing to do with your parents either way, I’m not going to try and take you away from them -- ”

Ron finally dared to meet Draco’s eyes, and his stomach dropped. Draco’s eyes were looking Ron up and down in disbelief, without a hint of hidden emotion. He looked like he thought Ron had lost it.

~*~

Draco gaped. Ron hesitated, looking for evidence of pain.

“Draco?” Lucius appeared behind him.

“Father, Weasley’s gone mad,” Draco said immediately, turning to him. “He’s saying he’s in love with me.”

“How strange,” Lucius said, fingering his wand, and Ron met his eyes and he _knew_.

Obliviation.

Draco’s parents hadn’t wanted him to feel anything for Ron Weasley, so they’d reached inside and stolen those feelings from him. Draco didn’t love him. He didn’t even remember loving him.

“You,” Ron said, his voice a colourless puff of sound. Lucius smiled, eyes dead as a snake’s, and said nothing.

~*~

“Father?” There was an edge of distress now in Draco’s voice. “What’s he talking about? What’s going on?” A wrinkle appeared between his blond brows, a wrinkle that always made Ron’s heart shift in his chest until he could make Draco feel better.

And there was no way to recover memory that was lost.

“Sorry,” Ron said. “Just... I lost a bet. It’s nothing.”

“Goodbye,” Lucius said.

Ron left. With every step down the steps, and along the driveway, and through the gate, his chest ached like he’d torn out his heart. Maybe he had. He was leaving it here.


	44. I'd Hate To Have To Punish You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco needs to concentrate: this is an interview with his probation officer. But Weasley's forearms keep distracting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for rondracodrabble's prompt, "scars".

Draco knew he had to concentrate. This interview could decide whether he got a cushy Ministry job or ended up scooping ice-cream between ducking hexes from irate civilians. And this particular probation officer had no reason to like him. Draco should be charming him, saving his future.

But Ron Weasley’s bloody forearms were getting in the way.

When Draco had first entered the office, he’d sniffed disdainfully at the sight of Weasley whisking off his robes to reveal Muggle clothes beneath. Weasley gave him a sharp look, but let it go. He grabbed Draco’s file, and pushed up his sleeves.

~*~

Draco had a distinct weakness for muscled forearms as it was; to see them revealed by sleeves pushed scruffily up to the elbows would have set his heart beating faster under all circumstances. But these forearms were roped with thick scars, the marks of battle. Tendons flexed as Weasley flipped through the file, and Draco gulped.

“Malfoy.” Weasley’s voice was iron; Draco thought he had probably said it already, while Draco was mesmerised. He glanced up into very blue eyes. Would it be wrong to seduce one’s probation officer?

“Yes, Weasley?”

“You’re aware of the terms of your probation?”

“Er...”

~*~

“All right then –monitoring of your current wand and no buying a new one; being on the Enemies of the State register, so we know where you live; no jobs involving security; no leaving the country. Plus, you can’t go within a mile of schools, because of the Hogwarts attack.”

Draco’s face felt hot. “I see,” he said miserably. His eyes landed on Ron’s arms again. This time he only thought of the other scars on Weasley skin. What he’d done to Bill Weasley.

“Let’s talk about your options.” 

They were woefully limited, but Draco knew Weasley would dislike complaints.

~*~

Weasley’s eyes were once again fixed on the parchment in front of him. Disgruntled, Draco wondered how to make the pretty blue eyes meet his again. It was nicer than thinking about his future, or his past.

“It looks like you’ve been a good boy so far...”

He swallowed.

“Good!” Weasley grinned. “I’d hate to have to punish you.”

Draco almost swallowed his tongue.

“Don’t look like that,” Weasley said, obviously misinterpreting his expression. “I just think it’d be good if we could all move on.”

Dazed, Draco blinked into blue eyes as bright and open as the sky. “Absolutely.”


	45. Vertical Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malfoy teaches Ron about the vertical expression of a horizontal desire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for a drabble meme, for entrenous88’s prompt "ballroom dancing".

“Long, arduous, painful weeks of practice have yielded a passable waltz, Weasley. True, my toes may never be the same again - ”

“They can get more painful, you know,” Ron felt his ears go red. Just because stupid Malfoy could stand there in pale grey robes and look all cool and long-limbed while Ron was overheated and clumsy, and could let Ron lead so easily like dancing any way should be easy -

“But you’re there with the waltz. Enough for the Ministry, anyway.”

“I am? So we’re finished?” Ron was almost pleased at the thought of not seeing Malfoy any more.

~*~

“No. I’m teaching you the tango.”

Ron blinked. “I. Oh. Well.”

Malfoy snorted. “Eloquent as ever. Dancing should suit you: it’s communication without speech.” He poked Ron’s arms until Ron lifted them, allowing Malfoy to slip into Ron’s (anxious, slightly sweaty, mortifyingly turned on) embrace. “Your body speaks for you.”

Malfoy began instructing Ron on how to move. He was a little flushed but composed and oh-so-elegant. Ron resented it: resented how Malfoy could move with him easily. He trusted his weight to Ron’s arms as though it was automatic for him to believe that Ron wouldn’t let him fall.

~*~

“Isn’t this - ”Ron’s breath hitched as Malfoy slid backwards, and Ron’s leg went further between his thighs - “the one they call the vertical expression of a...” Malfoy came upright again, panting a little, his face close to Ron’s. “Horizontal desire?”

A smile flashed on Malfoy’s pale face, and he pushed Ron backwards. Ron hit the marble wall with a soft oof, and Malfoy followed him instantly. Malfoy pressed his body against Ron’s, his eyes bright, and Ron felt his arousal.

Malfoy licked his lips. Ron considered licking them too.

“Who said it had to be horizontal?”


	46. Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's out of bed. Angst warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for the rondracodrabble prompt, "insomnia".

Ron opened his eyes, instantly awake. He didn’t know what had woken him, though grey, early-morning light filtered through the curtains his mum had sewn him. His clock said it was just past five.

He got up in perfect silence – he might not be an Auror any more, but he still had the skills – and checked Malfoy’s little room. The bed was empty.

Ron stole downstairs, wand in hand. Malfoy had better not be trying to escape his custody; he’d be sent back to Azkaban if he did, and the Dementors were a lot less forgiving than wizard parole officers.

~*~

Malfoy was in the sitting room, standing at the window. He was hugging himself as he stared out into the foggy street. He looked frozen, but his eyes were moving, his face pale but animated; as if he were looking at _something_ , but not something Ron could see.

“Draco.” The name dropped unbidden from his lips at the sight before him: at Malfoy too thin in his second-hand pyjamas. (He’d slept naked rather than use his prison duds, and Ron hadn’t been able to deal with it.)

Malfoy didn’t turn around. Ron moved towards him, and said his name again.

~*~

Malfoy’s only reaction was to clench his arms around himself. He was too thin; his shoulderblades were too obvious, his elbows pointed enough to hurt. They stuck out awkwardly, like the wings of a damaged bird, as he hugged himself.

Ron reached out, and Malfoy spun. His face was grey; his pallor not the creamy one natural to him, but the complexion of someone who’d spent far too long inside, someone whose health was distinctly precarious. Ron had thought he was used to it; but with that expression, Malfoy’s glittering eyes were the only way to know he was alive.

~*~

For a moment, Ron felt unable to speak. Malfoy did it first.

“Weasley?”

Ron would’ve expected Malfoy to sound dreamy, or confused, or vulnerable; something that matched his expression, that asked for help. But he sounded almost as prickly as usual, like he was about to complain of Ron bothering him.

“Yeah,” he said, playing for time. “Er, I woke up and wondered where you’d gone. You weren’t in your room.”

Malfoy’s face – clenched, somehow. “I was just looking outside, not running off.”

“I know.” Ron raised his hands.

Silence. Ron retreated from the standoff, and went back to bed.


	47. Abandoned Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following on from "Abandoned Hope" - this is an abandoned WIP, I'm afraid.
> 
> Draco dreams of Voldemort, Bellatrix, Fenrir... and Azkaban. He doesn’t want Ron to know about the Azkaban nightmares.
> 
> Warnings: mentions of rape threats and torture, angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the rondracodrabble prompt, "walls".

Everyone Draco’s age had nightmares. Ravenclaws who’d kept their heads down dreamt of the Carrows torturing the students while Snape watched with a face etched in stone. Harry Potter himself had a head full of Voldemort’s red eyes and Hermione Granger screaming.

Draco dreamt about Voldemort, of course; and about his mother crying, his father being beaten, Aunt Bellatrix’s mad grin and Fenrir’s threats. But they only came occasionally; when something happened to trigger them, or for no reason at all.

The dreams that came nightly – regular as clockwork, as guards’ boots tramping down a stone hall – were of Azkaban.

~*~

The dreams came in different forms. There was one wizard who’d clocked him straight away, and kept leering, brushing up against him, muttering threats. Finally he grabbed at Draco’s crotch in the cafeteria. Draco had been so terrified he’d burst into tears.

That man had been transferred before he could make his threats real. Sometimes Draco dreamt that it had ended a different way.

Or the guards beat him, the constant humiliating cuffs to the ears becoming something worse; or the Dementors returned; or his old friends visited him, and laughed.

Or he went mad.

Those were the worst ones.

~*~

Most often it was just feeling trapped: he was back in the cell and no one was coming for him, nobody would save him. He wouldn’t be led out into the light this time, he’d just stay here forever in this faceless grey box. Like being buried alive.

The people who hurt him in dreams were dead, or unable to reach him. Azkaban still stood. And Ron didn’t use it against him any more – he didn’t have a chance to, with Draco remaining stony and silent as the wizard prison itself – but he could still send him back. Any time.

~*~

He wouldn’t, Draco was (almost) sure. Not unless Draco broke his parole, and he would never be that stupid. But still, Draco couldn’t quite bear to reveal his weaknesses to Ron, not when he had the power to make those fears real.

He might have to give in and ask for a sleeping potion soon. He was sick of waking in the early morning, too heartsick to try to sleep, with nothing to do for hours until Ron woke.

It was always foggy outside Ron’s flat, that early.

There was nothing to see but fog from the windows of Azkaban.


	48. The First Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chess as rehabilitation? That’s a cause Ron can get behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for rondracodrabble's prompt, _white._

Ron clattered into the visitors’ room with deliberate noisiness: with the Dementors gone the prisoners didn’t scream any more, but that only left a creepy silence.

Draco’s milk-pale face brightened as Ron thumped the set onto the table between them. “What colour?”

“I’ll play white.”

“Of course. The colour of surrender,” Ron baited.

“My white flag will rule the land of ChessSetia, Weasley.”

They set up the board, as they had every week for eight months. Draco’s fingers traced the carved shapes: pawn, rook, queen. He must know them by heart.

Ron usually played touch-chess, but he’d learnt what the familiar shapes, civilisation in his hands, meant to Draco. Not that Draco would ever say anything.

Draco pouted when Ron took his knight. “Knights are my favourite.”

The clearest proof he’d ever get from Draco, and the meaningful grey gaze, and the guards were all outside -

“You’ll be out soon,” Ron said, holding onto patience like a man about to fall off his broom.

Draco’s eyes narrowed, and then he kissed Ron thoroughly, his hands sliding into Ron’s hair to keep him close. Heat flared through them in the cold room.

“So much for waiting for - ”

“I’m white, remember?” The sharp edges of Draco’s smirk were softened, this close. “I make the first move.”


End file.
